
For months, I have been under the impression that the grave-digger is sitting around, waiting for my death. But no, perhaps these are all just my delusions. He buries a corpse every single day, so why would he be lying in ambush for me?Yesterday, as I passed by him, he cast a strange glance at me. He did not take the heavy weight of his eyes off me until I was far away; it was as if the color of his gaze was calling me to himself. For several nights now, I have been seeing him in my dreams, one night after another. Tonight, I made a pact with myself that if he appeared in my sleep again, I would scream and tell him, "Get the hell out!" But no... in the world of dreams, his image was distorted and blurred. It was as though he had gone deaf and refused to hear my voice; or perhaps, it was I who had struck dumb. The dream of the grave-digger perturbs me so deeply that it robs me of the pleasure of a sweet slumber until dawn, leaving nothing but the bitter taste of poison in my mouth.He has been accustomed to the dead for years, facing a new—and perhaps repetitive—story every day. But who is to know? Maybe the story of my death will be something new to him. Maybe he, too, dreams of burying me at night.In the morning, I picked up the stale piece of bread from a few days ago from the ledge next to the room's skylight. I tried to wash it down with the last drop of water remaining at the bottom of the glass, but the bread was so dry and hard that it could not be swallowed, even with water. Dazed and bewildered, I stepped out of the house; perhaps in search of a morsel of bread, or perhaps with the resignation that I must simply get by with this misery. It has been years since a fresh morsel of bread packed its bags and left this house, answering the call of death. There is no sign of fresh bread anymore, nor any water; barely a drop remains at the bottom of my glass.Today, I shall go to visit the grave-digger.O grave-digger! Dig your grave sooner. It is better that my own grave gets lost than for me to address you.Grave-digger... dig my grave!
About the Creator
Fahim Arezou
I am an Afghan poet, novelist, and literary writer. My works explore love, exile, loneliness, silence, and the hidden wounds of the soul through poetic, philosophical, and existential reflections.
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